Crimson Requiem
by Black-Winged Tease
Summary: ARELENA- A collection of morbid love stories concerning Arelena. Not all will be so morbid, but most are; “Lenalee,” He would always beckon, crimson eyes smoldering in red flames that reflected the fierceness pooling within his damaged heart.
1. Coldest Heart

((A new series~! ARELENA, because, gosh, if they aren't obvious then Cross isn't sexy…which he totally is. –swoon- Um, yes, I apologize for my long hiatus! Urgh. Not enough self esteem and time and everything to write….but now I shall get back on the ball! Comments keep my going, make me happy, makes me want to write, and keeps me from going on long hiatus…. –cough- Onward~ To my morbid love series~! – Miki-chan))

((Note on this one-shot: Allen and Lena are older. Allen is a general. Oh yes.))

Coldest Heart

He would capture her hand with his own, drawing her into his embrace. Glaring, she would stare at his tender boyish appearance that masked his dissolute nature. Flowing locks of silver cupped his pale cheeks while rays of the same tainted white stood erect behind his ears. The generals' eyes welled with a merciless crimson that seemed to suffocate souls to their knees. He was marked upon his left cheek, baring the fact that he was cursed; condemned for the bitter, costly mistake made years ago when he had been just a boy craving for love.

Now, before her, was one of the greatest generals ever placed in the Black Order, making the Head Officials in high spirits. Only, she knew he was so much more than that. If asked to describe her tortured lover, her response would be that General Walker was a tantalizing dark man, capable of corruption bled from the mentally wounds scarring his heart. A heart that pattered slowly like a beaten down drum, battered and bruised. Her hands, whimpers, love, and lips could only do so much for this man.

She was swept away, fallen out of favor in his arms. His gnarled, repulsive, red hand ricocheted against her soft face. The general had a habit of letting his immoral self augment from the depths of his chaotic mind.

Grasping her wrist after she had faintly pressed her fingertips to her burning, stricken face, General Walker once more pushed her vivacious body against him, snapping her wrist with a contorted grin. Her lips parted as a whimper escaped from her throat, although the woman was used to the cruel treatment by now. It had become a habit, a custom, when the sun fell and the night became a prison.

Not one finder nor exorcist would ever make the assumption that Allen would, one of the greatest generals, would be possessive enough to his lover to draw forth her pain for pleasure. There was numerous times where his insecurities surrounding love, due to Cross and Mana, overrode him, mutating him into corruption.

"Lenalee," He would always beckon, crimson eyes smoldering in red flames that reflected the fierceness pooling within his damaged heart. With his command, she would endure all for Allen Walker. The arguing, the pain, the roughness, and the coldness.

All of this for him. For the love she bore.

He was her death to come and she welcomed it with wide open arms, daring to be taken away.


	2. In Our Own World

In Our Own World

Warm, slippery, wet puddles carpeted the dark razor-edged grass field decorated with the malignant machines that wept for mercy in the form of brutality. The morose moon, overseeing the violent fatalities from above, reflected painful radiance against the crimson floods sloshing through the grass. Slick, drenched, battered limbs and carnage was strewn all over, adding the props to the grotesque play. Broken golems were crumpled by dead freezing bodies, desperately twitching for the last of its life.

Hopeless salty tears cascaded down the cheeks of many pale exorcists as all they could gaze upon was either the enemy or their fallen comrades. Stepping through the gore with wavering determination was a beautiful Chinese exorcist by the name of Lenalee Lee. Coils of raven hair spilled down her back messily from all the fighting and her pale skin was blemished with the touch of swelling and pain. Her arms were cut to gashes, red fluid running hungrily down to the distended fingertips by her sides. Dark cold eyes swam with tears and opposition toward the akuma. The leather binding her naked body was torn and stained now. The whiteness of the patterns on the destroyed uniform was tainted red and the black made her body seem halfway distorted into the darkness of night. Lips parted for her to exhale in ragged measures of breath. Would they win? Her thoughts were mingled with the loss of friends to the futility of the battle. Knees bucked in wearily, wishing faintly for the pain to cease. It wasn't typical for Lenalee to be so weak and feeling so negative, but the deaths and attacks blew harsh against her spirit. To those around her, it looked as if she was no more than an empty husk to endlessly fight for the Pope's own devices. Deep down to the core of miserable matters, all exorcists were marionettes to the strings securely strangled around the unsanctified Pope's gnarled fingers of greed.

What did it matter? Did anything matter anymore to Lenalee? Most of her friends died. Her own brother, Supervisor Komui Lee, was in critical condition back at the headquarters due to a dual attack presumably planned out efficiently by the Earl. Was the game being over-played? What was the reason for anything anymore? Thoughts became contorted inside her head as she trudged on, feeling fallen fellow exorcists' blood glued upon her activated boots, which glowed and crawled upon her bruised legs in sharp-edged diamonds.

A warm hand possessed on of her own, blood associating through out both joined hands. Slowly, Lenalee peered up to see the very face that made her heart pump rapidly every time. Gazing upon the silvery liquid mercury eyes and striking white cropped hair of the young man she loved, Lenalee couldn't help but smile coolly, glad that at least he was alive and in better shape than she was in currently. She couldn't help but logically ask herself how long it would be until he was as marred.

"Lenalee, are you alright?" His worried tone caressed her, pleased to find that he cared for her health. However, she found his question to be useless because one look upon her appearance and one would know the answer to such an inquiry.

"….Allen, what are we going to…do?" She asked him a question instead of answering something so foolish and feeble at the time. How was her health more important than saving the lives of the innocent as well as her partners in the Black Order?

"Honestly, Lena, I'm not sure….I can't seem to find a way in penetrating the enemy….I'm sorry…" He pouted at her, looking sincerely forlorn with the situation. His cursed left arm was activated, being glazed over in metallic weaponry with a red cross embedded within his hand. Dirt and blood painted his face as he stood beside her, wishing that he could do more for her.

Sudden heavy weight collided into the couple, smashing them against the coarse bark of the nearest tree. The wind had been knocked out of Lenalee, making her slide uselessly to the ground, feeling completely dizzy into a hazy of a world washed black and red. Long black eyelashes flickered, obscuring her vision more rapidly and longer than usual.

Allen ended up recovering quicker than she could, assuming a fighting position at the ghastly akuma that had done the damage of thrashing them agonizingly against the tree. Pulling back his arm to assault, his left eye throbbed, locking onto the machine for a clean swipe. He then sliced through the malicious machine, ending its misery and effortless cause to destroy. After watching the fatigued iridescent spirit ascend into the black sky, Allen cradled Lenalee in his arms, frowning with worry.

"Oh, Lena…." Allen whispered into her ear, causing her to shiver at the intimacy of his cool breath upon her lobe. "Please don't inflict yourself with any more damage…Stay out of the way….For me?"

"For you?"

"Yes, for me. Listen, Lena…." His pale cheeks flushed light pink before he added, "I want….I want…." Before Lenalee had time to try and concept what he was trying to say to her, his bruised aching lips crammed hungrily against her cracked ones. He drew back and sucked gently upon her throbbing fingertips, vigorously pumping her fingers individually in his mouth, tongue caressing the sore skin.

Lenalee threw her head back with a faint smile, relishing the affection from Allen Walker. Her burning tips were soaked in his saliva, clean of the coppery blood that had pooled down from her arm. They were in their own world momentarily, a soar-coated distraction from the massacre.

"I love you, Lenalee…." Allen said against her lips, feeling warm ecstasy swimming through pulsating veins.

Just as she manages to let the same words tremble from her lips, screaming crawls up her throat and massacres her proclamation. Tragically, she could hear a scream spring forth from his lips as well. Looking down at her stomach, it was the end. A linked end. Linking Lenalee to the mane she loved was a cylindrical fat claw shooting into Lenalee and out Allen's back. Maggots of crimson scattered from their lips as eyes were forever imprisoned into alarm.

Into their own little world they drowned, tarnished by machinery and submerged in blood.


	3. Addiction

The sky was emblazoned with passionate red, gold, and orange hues. Such vivid colors staining the sky looked like an oil painter's artwork. Faintly, the crescent moon was peaking out from the display, trying to bring the darkness into dominance. The roof of the Order was the best place to observe such natural beauty as it was also the most abandoned place throughout the years.

Stumbling up the ascending stairs that led to such a special hideout was two of the Order's young exorcists. The boy with jagged, cropped, silvery hair had his cursed, mutated, red hand covering his soft lips as he laughed erratically. He wore his black-and-white leather uniform as he did any other day, like his second skin. Climbing up next to him was a petite Chinese girl with raven majestic hair that coiled down her backside in pigtails. She was laughing as well to this unheard joke shared between them.

Upon the roof, they grasped each other's hands joyfully, gazing up at the burning sky, pondering the idea of flying. Their minds were intoxicated, light-headed and hazy. Pain had subsided away, ebbed backwards for a few hours, like a time traveling trick. Gently, the male exorcist, Allen Walker, massaged sweet liquid across his lips. His tongue glided against the fluid, savoring and craving the flavor. Bliss burst inside of him as he painted his best friend's lips with the same wet substances, making her giddy. It was as if the two were applying lip gloss, readying for the intimacy of lip service.

Damp sweet lips collided, parting ways for exploration. Fingers blemished flaming pale skin, seeking the fuel that came from noises. The sliding of their warm bodies drenched them in perspiration. Allen and Lenalee lain panting against the cold hard roof, staring at the darkening sky. To their cloudy perception, it seemed as though the sky was burning black like the battlefields. Her fingers curled into his damp hair, whimpering for more of the ecstatic fluid.

Instead of denying her the pleasure, Allen rummaged for the magic in his jacket pockets. He withdrew a cylindrical, bitter, glass instrument filled half-way with the earlier liquid that he glossed their lips with. Seductively licking the tip of the sharp needle, Allen laughed eccentrically. She pricked her thin finger, asking for the love bite from him.

Pressing his swollen lips against her own, Allen took possession of her arm, plunging the syringe's kiss into her veins. Tainted they were to the addiction of the liquid and the sickness of carnage due to akuma. Not even the kiss from loved ones could ever caress them to faux security like that of the needle. Like a sinking ship, there was no escaping it.


End file.
